Pony Fails

"Okay, now we need...three eggs," Gilda read from the open cookbook on the counter as she folded butter in the bowl she held.

"Coming right up!" Pinkie rummaged through the fridge...then plopped on her butt on the kitchen floor. "Uhh...or not," she said. She looked back at Gilda with sad eyes. "Looks like Mr. Cake's supply order didn't come in. We're out of eggs."

Gilda shrugged. "Eh."

"Gilda, this is bad!" Pinkie said, throwing her hooves up in the air. "We can't make this cake without eggs!"

"I know that, dweeb!" Gilda said. "Gimme some credit!" She fluffed her wings. "I'm just sayin', I got this."

"Oh...you mean you're gonna go to the store and get some eggs?"

Gilda snorted. "Please. That's what you dorky ponies do." She cracked her neck, stretched out, then hunched down, face screwed up in a look of intense concentration.

"Uhh...Gilda?" Pinkie asked uncertainly. "What are you--"

Gilda let out a pained grunt of exertion, and a large, mottled egg the color of granite slid out of her hindquarters. "Nnghhh...GAH!" She stood up, spreading her wings to their full span, and panted heavily. "There! Problem solved!" She turned to give Pinkie her most winning smile...

Pinkie's face was buried in the bowl of ingredients Gilda had been folding. A stomach-churning retching sound filled the kitchen.

"Pinkie? What are you...HEY! DON'T PUKE IN THERE! WE'RE NOT MAKING VOMIT CAKE!"